


Realize

by rageprufrock



Category: Smallville
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rageprufrock/pseuds/rageprufrock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex wants something to be easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Realize

&gt;Lex is starting to realize something, and it's probably a bad time for it.

  
He remembers the blue-pale walls of the hospital, the slow, measured steps as he moment by moment swallowed his pride. Lex remembers constructing his appeal in his head, with points and little stylistic ticks just like forensics at Excelsior had taught him to do. He meant it, he knows that, but it was all written out in his mind, like he was violently torn from his Lincoln-Douglas debate and thrown into a room of expectant listeners, waiting for an extemporaneous essay on Why I Don't Trust You.

  
Even as he was telling her about the wall around his heart, Lex remembers thinking, "Dear God, five dates."

  
That's not a lot.

  
Lex has more involved relationships with his pens and pool-cues. Ty-nant has been a faithful companion for years now. Years. It follows him _everywhere_.

  
He asked her to help him, he knows, and she is now. She's got her hands on his shirt, pressing tapered fingers into his chest and undoing buttons, sliding up and down along expensive cloth, making small sounds. She is kissing him deeply, like she's missed him in the whole two days that they have been fighting, and Lex swears she murmurs stupid things like "I love you" and that he is saying them back.

  
Because it's...it's nice to be able to say it to _someone_.

  
But Lex is realizing something, even now, pressing her slim shoulders into his bed, gentle and almost-afraid, hearing her whisper in his ear.

  
He...he remembers _going_ to the hospital, and telling her everything. Appealing to her sense of sympathy, asking for compassion. Begging her for help.

  
And he remembers other times. He remembers the conversation with Clark earlier that afternoon, pouting like the teenager he really is inside his own head, ranting and muttering and coming up with stupid conspiracy theories about the whats and whys and hows. And Clark, just riding it out, listening to him with the same waiting expression on his face. Clark patient, calm, expectant, like he knows Lex enough to know that he just has to talk about this, rant it out.

  
His game was seriously off that day, Lex remembers. He lost. Badly.

  
"I'm so glad you told me, Lex," she whimpers, and he feels naked skin on skin now, flushed hot with interest.

  
Passion against availability, and that sounds really ugly in his head.

  
Lex doesn't say anything, just silences her with his mouth, which he knows that she likes. Lex is glad that he told her, too. So that she fucking finally _gets_ it.

  
It's sort of strange, but the thing he's realizing is multifaceted.

  
Lex doesn't remember telling Clark these things in a hospital corridor. In fact, Lex remembers months, a year and a half now, in which things like Lex's mother, his upbringing, his heart, and his needing help have been discussed in detail. In all the little glances and touches, half-spoken phrases that mean two things. In every time that Clark seems to care and tells Lex to drive slower or saves his life, both of which happen a lot.

  
Lex never _told_ Clark. Clark just learned. From exposure.

  
But five dates, Lex rationalizes. That's something, anyway.

  
So much wasted time, he mourns. Lex canceled a conference call today to deal with Helen. It was probably the good, responsible, Human thing to do, but Lex can't help but think that if she _got him_, then he wouldn't have had to do it all.

  
Lex can do all sorts of stupid, dangerous things (like live in Smallville), and Clark will save him. Lex doesn't have to stop Clark in hallways and explain about his mother and his wall before Clark gives him the time of day. Sometimes, Lex knows that Clark really just wants to walk away, but that's not in his nature. Not like Lex would let him, either.

  
"Come on, Lex, come on," she huffs, eyes deep and dark before him.

  
But Clark is so _young_. The newness of him tangible in the air, like sparkles or maybe a faint scent. Lex can barely stand it because youth reeks of jealous emotions, selfishness beyond even what _Lex_ knows. It takes years and grief and real loss to wear away the edges of sharp teeth to broaden one's view outside of their own periphery. (In Lionel's case, it took him years to hone them back to adolescence. Lex never understood that, why reverse development? Being rich can't be that important.)

  
So it hurts, twists like a _knife_ every time Clark brushes him off or treats Lex like a bank, but he can _understand_ it. Clark just doesn't know what he's doing.

  
Too young. Too new. Too stupid and self-absorbed to understand.

  
Every teenager thinks that they're drowning in the world, that nothing they do will ever matter and that no one loves them. They've got it exactly opposite: everyone is drowning in them, and they don't care. Too shortsighted to see reality without warped lenses.

  
It probably doesn't say good things about how he's been performing in bed so far, because Lex is on autopilot and _Helen doesn't notice_. So she's gasping and bucking underneath him, and he honestly thinks he's detached himself from his body.

  
And Lex knows why he sat in his car in front of the Kent house for half an hour earlier today, debating whether or not to go in.

  
See, because Lex was stupid, and is still young, so he told Clark everything, gave all of himself, and then remembered that Clark is too new to be careful with it, hold it gently.

  
It's not even about the secrets anymore, which surprises Lex to no end.

  
Lex is just too fragile right now for Clark's too-strong hands.

  
So he remembers steering the car over to the Smallville Medical Center and stalking the hallways until Helen came into view. She is beautiful and older and soft around the edges, meeting his concaves with her curves. She is not even a comfortable fit, but it's better than leaving himself wide open, Lex thinks and comes inside of her, eyes screwed shut.

  
Helen can't hurt him. Not really.

  
She can bounce caustic remarks off of his skin, infuriate him, and make him feel betrayed.

  
But all of those are flesh wounds, and Clark can cut him to the bone, drive pain deep into the marrow, and Lex isn't strong enough to handle that.

  
Besides, he thinks distractedly - Whitney's back in town, and Clark is probably moping.

  
So Lex curls himself around Helen, presses a kiss to her shoulder, and loves her because she is inconsequential, needs her because she is good to him (mostly), and because she's here, and quiet. Lex needs this right now.

  
It doesn't matter what he realizes, Lex knows.

  
Tonight, it just doesn't register.


End file.
